Day 41 And Counting
by emptyfortunecookie
Summary: Major 40th Day Spoilers. After the events of Shanghai the guys have to deal with their sins and find that neither really know how to. A story about trying to rescue people from themselves even if they don't want to be saved. No slash.


_The moment we break faith with one another, the sea engulfs us and the light goes out. ~James Baldwin_

The lightening and thunderclaps were more like slow, steady heart beats then anything else.

Standing outside in the cold, pouring rain that was so very unusual for Miami, Rios looked up at the silhouette of a house. He could see no traces of light in the windows, no sense of movement nor a notion that anything living inhabited it. Such was almost never the case when coming to the abode of Elliot Salem. At the most there would at least be music playing somewhere within the confines of the house. At one time there would have been a party almost every night. Thankfully his longtime friend and business partner had grown out of what Rios had dubbed his "Rock Star" lifestyle. The parties stopped, as had frequent bar visits. Salem had grown to be more responsible, but there were certain things that you couldn't get out of him.

That was usually the music.

Tonight, however, the house was silent. Rios should have just been able to shrug it off, but things hadn't quite been the same since Shanghai. Naturally. They'd lost Alice, something neither of them had ever been prepared for. The trauma was almost as unbearable as the guilt that they should have done more to ensure her safety. The empty desk, the lack of phone calls and texts informing them of new jobs that were up their alley. It all left large, hollow holes with stinging reminders of their failure.

Alice had kept them organized and on task. Now they were falling apart. T.W.O was more than likely facing its final days. But more concerning then that had been the rift growing between Salem and Rios in the past few weeks. Sure there had been a great many of people wanting to know what had happened in the streets of Shanghai. Hostage situations, rogue PMS workers attempting some bogus bull shit so called mission to bring the world closer together? At least that was what Jonah had said. Then he had given them a choice. A choice neither of them had been prepared to make.

Turning the doorknob, he was surprised somewhat to find the door was unlocked. Rios shuffled around slowly in the darkness. It was like a maze of shattered emotions and memories, and a crap load of beer cans. Concern tightened in his chest as he pushed through the rubble piles and broken bits of furniture. Looking to his peripheral vision he thought he might have seen bullet holes, but then that could have been the shadows of specs from the windows.

PTSD set in at the most inconvenient of times.

It took a while before he finally found Salem sitting alone in the darkness of the living room. It seemed as though he was sleeping, but as Rios stepped closer his head lifted slightly.

"Rios." He said in a very flat tone of voice, as if he was neither surprised that his old time friend was there, nor cared.

"Salem, what the hell are you doing?"

A soft laugh. Short. Cynical. So very unlike the man he used to know.

"Thinking."

Rios' frown deepened.

"About what?"

Salem waited about half a minute to respond.

"Shit."

Rios sighed and walked a bit closer.

"What's the matter with you? Why are you sitting in the dark? And what the hell happened to this place?"

"Nothing."

"Sure as hell don't look like nothin'."

"Yeah well," there was the swish of liquid in a bottle and Salem's head tilted backwards slightly. Great. On top of everything else the ass hole had to be drunk? That was going to make shit a lot harder. "Not everything's what it seems, is it?"

Tyson felt himself getting mad now. It was bad enough that the bastard didn't show up for work days at a time, but now to find that he'd been letting himself slip into a span of drunken days and nights was too much. Whatever this was, it had to end, and now. He started walking towards Salem and was just about to reach his large hand around the back of the man's neck while toying with the idea of slamming his face into the coffee table, but stopped just short of physical contact.

Salem just looked too pathetic to cause any more pain to. Rios secretly wondered if when he thought no one was looking he appeared the same way.

"What the hell, man? What's the matter with you? You don't come to work anymore. You don't talk to anyone. You just shut yourself up. If you're depressed, get help Salem, but don't destroy yourself."

Salem glanced up and over his shoulder.

"What do you care?"

Tyson blinked, completely thrown by the question. It wasn't said in bitterness at all which made it even more confusing. It was stated as a simple inquiry, as if Salem really didn't know the answer.

"Well I guess after more than twenty years of working with a guy you can't help but care," he spat, glaring down his scarred and crooked nose at his younger friend. "But you wouldn't know anything about that now would you?"

Salem laughed. "Funny that you should say that," he said, slowly reaching toward the coffee table. A fifth of scotch dropped down on top of it from his extended hand, possibly chipping the glass in a dull thud. "Because you know, for all these years I honestly believed that." He stood up, unstable at first but eventually taking a few steps away from the chair. He didn't turn to face Rios. He seemed to be lost in a memory of something, reliving it while justifying his behavior.

"What do you mean?"

"I believed that we worked together. Y'know? We were a team. Everything man. We did every-fucking-thing together. Until Shanghai."

The frown on Tyson's face deepened.

"What are you talking about?"

Salem teetered a bit before half rotating in his stance.

"You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I don't."

He did.

Salem raised his right hand to point at him. What else was revealed in his hand nearly scared the shit out of the war torn man. Within Salem's hand was a Desert Eagle, one of their old prizes from a mission in Iraq back in the days working with SSC. Tyson had sold his, believing that with it would go the bad luck of the previous employer that had issued it to him. It seemed Salem hadn't been so willing to let his go.

"You know, you were always so high-and-fucking-mighty. Always making the "right" decision. Everything was so black and fucking white with you."

Tyson tensed while Salem's arms flung around in every single direction with his angry gestures. His eyes never left that gun.

"But I was where the gray came in, right? I was there to make the really tough decisions, to act them out if necessary because you were on too big of a fucking moral high horse to do it yourself. And you know what?" He opened his arms out side and nearly stumbled backwards. Tyson tensed. "I didn't care, because even if I committed to the action, the responsibility of it was still ours even though the blood was on MY hands."

"You're right," Tyson agreed. "You were my scapegoat. You did what I couldn't because you were willing to take those steps. You're right. I would have never argued that with you about that. You were better at dealing with that shit. With justifying it. I didn't think it bothered you."

"I didn't man, not until Shanghai. Not until HIM."

Shit. Tyson swallowed. He knew now where this was going, and ever so slowly he could feel his heart sink into his stomach. He knew this day would come, but he hadn't anticipated it like this. Not this bad.

"We had a choice Rios."

"And you made it, Salem."

Salem hissed. He turned away to face the wall again, shaking his head while rubbing the back of his neck."

"I sure as fuck did Rios. I made the decision to cap that bastard and with him about seven million people."

"…..you did."

Tyson heard the sound of the gun being gripped tighter. He braced himself, but the bullets never flew.

"That's right. I did. Me." Salem turned to face his partner. "And what did you say to me afterward?"

Shit.

"Look Salem –"

"DON'T!" he shouted, pointing the pistol now. Tyson froze. "Don't you fucking DARE try to justify SHIT to me now! Ever since that moment you haven't been able to handle what happened. The fact that I shot him and killed millions before I killed you."

"I …" Tyson stopped himself. He knew it was true. He hadn't been able to face him after that. But it hadn't been because of the decision he had made. "I'm sorry…"

Salem dropped his arm, but the pistol stayed firm in his hand.

"What?"

Tyson's gaze was on the floor now. For the first time since Samantha had left him…since he'd accepted that Alice was gone…he allowed himself a few – just a few – tears.

"You're right. I'm sorry. I left you to deal with everything alone because I couldn't face it."

"Couldn't face what, Rios?"

"Any of it."

"That's not good enough Tyse."

"The decision we were forced to make."

"We?"

"That you made. That was presented to both of us."

"Kill the other or kill millions."

Salem was kind enough to not say it in question format. Tyson nodded in response. He had now seated himself on the chair he had found Salem in not thirty minutes prior, his head rested on his folded fists, elbows on top of knees.

"Why were you so torn apart by it Rios?"

"I don't –"

"Don't tell me you don't know man."

The sound of metal clinked against Salem's belt buckle. He was adjusting the gun to his left hand.

"I couldn't do it."

"Do what?"

"I COULDN'T MAKE THAT DECISION!"

Silence. Rios was looking up while Salem looked down, their eyes locked with the inner turmoil that was both binding them together and tearing them apart.

"I couldn't do it."

"So you let me do it."

"Yes."

"And then left me to deal with it all by myself. The bad press. The questioning. Never once did you back me personally or as a business partner Rios. You left me flailing out in shark infested waters where lawyers and journalists and civil rights activists ripped me apart and spit me back out!"

"I'm sorry."

"And if that wasn't bad enough, you were no where when I needed you as my friend. Rios, what the hell were you doing?"

"I'm sorry."

"So you know what, yes, I pulled away from you. I fell back into bad habits and became self destructive because I was being painted as a monster and the last person in the world I thought I had abandoned me when I needed him most."

"I'm……I'm so sorry."

Salem sighed while wiping a palm over his face.

"You know what Rios?"

"Yes?"

"I really wish you would have killed me back in Shanghai."

Tyson looked up.

"What?"

"I wish you'd have had the guts to pull the damn trigger on me." Salem stopped to let loose a sardonic laugh. "Would have made shit easier on both of us. You wouldn't have to deal with the fact that you were semi-responsible for the deaths of seven million people…and I would have a physical bullet instead of a rhetorical knife in my back right now." Salem turned to face the wall again and this time was finally giving full attention to the pistol in his hand. "I can't do it anymore man."

Tyson frowned, his present situation suddenly remembered.

"Do what?"

"Live like this."

He turned, waving the pistol back and forth in short arcs beside his face. His gaze had suddenly become distant, as if Salem had forgotten there was someone else with him in the room. He was talking more to himself now perhaps, but Tyson wasn't exactly certain. Instead he watched, mesmerized by the transformation before him.

"It's too much. I got nothing anymore."

He cocked the gun.

Immediately Tyson jumped to his feet, his heart in his throat. Surely Salem wasn't going too…there was no way.

"Just after a while, shit becomes clear, you know?"

"Salem!" Tyson extended his hand in a halting gesture. "Salem you don't have to do this."

"I never said I had to man, I just want to. It's the only thing I can do anymore."

"That's not true!"

"IT'S NOT?! IT'S NOT TRUE? THEN WHAT ELSE IS THERE RIOS? I'VE BEEN ABANDONED BY EVERYONE AND EVERYTHING! I HAVE NO LIFE LEFT BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED IN SHANGHAI, AND I WENT THROUGH WITH THAT CHOICE WILLINGLY! YOU KNOW WHY?"

All Tyson could do was lower his head. He knew the answer.

"Because I could NEVER have turned a gun on you."

There was nothing left for Tyson to say except: "I'm sorry."

"So am I, Tyson." He stopped, the pistol lowering to his hip for a moment. "I'm sorry that I was so stupid to think everything would be okay after that. I'm sorry that I made the decision to shoot Jonah first, because I'm sure if I had waited you would have eventually pulled the trigger on me and none of this would have had to happen."

Tyson wanted to say that Salem was wrong, but the true shame of the moment was that he wasn't sure. He wasn't sure what he would have done if he had been the one with the pistol in his hand instead of his partner. He wasn't sure if he could have shot Jonah knowing that seven million more would be wiped out in the process. But those seven million people were faceless…Salem had…he'd grown up with Salem in some ways. They'd watched each other's backs, been through the most impossible shit, faced the most impossible odds. They were closer than many brothers ever were, and yet if it had come down to it, could he have been as strong and Salem and said 'fuck' to it all and killed for the sake of his friend? He didn't know.

And that had been the reason why Tyson had done everything that he did. He had realized right then and there that neither black or white was not a light in which to shine most things. There was a wide chasm of gray between it all and he had to be smart enough to see it, and strong enough to know when to act in concerns to it. The fact that Salem had so easily killed for him showed his friend's dedication. And Rios had felt like shit realizing that there was someone out there willing to do that for him, but he wasn't certain he could do it for them in return.

Rios knew that he was the real monster.

And now here he stood with his best friend who was holding a gun to his own head because he couldn't face the guilt of having done what he had done and then being abandoned by the very person he had put everything on the line for. Being portrayed as a monster, a war mongering mercenary whose only concern was money.

"I'm sorry," Tyson repeated for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm sorry Elliot. I'm a terrible friend. You're right. I did abandon you and that's unforgivable. It's the worst thing I've ever done to you and I'm sorry."

Salem stood emotionless. Staring. Tyson wasn't sure if his friend could hear his words but he at least had to try. He had to try this time, because last time he had left everything up to chance, and if he didn't do this right he was going to lose his last friend forever.

"I should have been there. I should have stood by you and the decision you made. I should have been out there. I should have backed you as a business partnership and as a friend and then maybe we would have been able to find a way to clear your name of the accusations sooner. I should have been stronger. I should have done everything within my goddamned power to make this work, but I got wrapped up in my self and my own fears that I left you to struggle by yourself. If anyone deserves to be shot it was me. If I knew then what I know now…"

There was nothing but silence now. Apparently at some point the storm had dissipated and all that was left was the almost inaudible hush of rain trickling onto the windows. Beyond that there was nothing but the sounds of their breathing and possibly Tyson's own heart. His fear was heavy along with his guilt and sense of desperation. He didn't know what was happening or going to happen, but whatever it was this night would not end on comfortable terms.

"So that's it?" Salem asked. He quarter turned away from Rios, head slightly cocked at an angle while he looked downward toward the ground. The Desert Eagle was still clutched tightly in his hand. "You just get to say you're sorry and then everything's okay?"

Rios sighed.

"No. No I don't think that. All I can do right now is say I'm sorry, but we can fix this Salem. We can start back up again."

"No we can't, Tyse." Salem bent his knees to sit cross legged on the floor. Rios grit his teeth when he nonchalantly scratched at his temple with the barrel of the gun. "Trans World is ruined now. With a reputation as scarred as that we'll never work again."

"We can do something else."

"We're as good as mass murderers, man. No one likes Mercs, and they're gonna like us even less."

"No, we can clear our names."

Salem scoffed. "See Rios? You're still a fucking idealist. You always were. There's no WAY man. Your business buddy here," he pointed at his chest with the pistol. Damn it, Rios wished he'd put that fucking thing down. "I'm a murderer, okay? My choice sent seven million fucking people to their maker in a flash of light. Turned them to charred bones and piles of ash. I'm a monster."

"You did what you thought was best."

"Why didn't you?"

There it was. The real reason this was taking place. Tyson saw it now. It wasn't the fact that Salem had acted. It was the fact that Rios hadn't. He had to admit, his young friend was smarter than he let on.

"You didn't because you couldn't choose between me and millions of faceless strangers. You couldn't do it, could you?"

Rios could only breathe for a few moments, locked in the gaze of those hating blue eyes. He'd seen Salem look at people like that before, but never at him. It was hard being on the other side of that condemning gaze, like suddenly Rios was the enemy that Salem was facing and had to be taken out.

Maybe that wasn't very far from the truth.

"Yes," Rios muttered.

"What?"

"Yes."

Salem got back on his feet, inhaled and then exhaled very slowly. Rios felt the judgment weighted on that breath and looked away.

"After everything?"

"I'm sorry."

"You said it yourself man. Over twenty years of working together Tyse. Twenty years of risking our lives, of fighting side by side, of coming within inches of dying…and you can't choose me over strangers?"

"I'm sorry."

Silence. Salem stood up again, but this time his shoulders were slumped as if he were finally defeated by everything. Maybe he was. It wasn't like any other hidden truths could be more disappointing then that after all. The gun, black as night and glistening with the promise of a swift and painless death, flashed in Salem's hand. Rios was looking away, his vision, though Salem probably was unable to tell, completely blurred with tears.

"You're sorry," Salem repeated the most famous line of the night. He added another scoff at the end. Whether it was because he didn't believe Rios, or because he didn't care, was unclear. Maybe that didn't matter anymore either.

"I'm sorry."

Salem sighed. His back was to Rios now who was still looking away.

"It's all right." He paused before bringing his hands in front of him. "There's no point in being angry anymore. What's done is done."

"Salem?"

"We can't go back." He paused. "We can't undo what I did. We can't undo what we did. We can't bring Alice back. We can't bring any of them back. We can only go forward, Rios. Go forward, or stop right where we are."

"Yeah," Tyson wiped at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. "You're right. We can stay stuck in the past, or we can move on."

"What do you think is better, Tyse?"

He paused for a moment, for the first time that night a small grin grew on his scarred face.

"I think moving forward is more productive."

"Well, that's great." Salem shifted one of his shoulders and turned halfway to face his old friend. "But me…I'm tired of trying to move forward and trying to move on. I've lost more than I've gained over the years and frankly…I don't want it anymore."

Rios blinked.

"Want what?"

Salem smiled sadly.

"You're a good man, Tyse. But I guess in the end I really was just a bad egg. I'm sorry I took you down with me."

Rios frowned.

Suddenly the gun rose to greet Salem's temple. The small end of the barrel seemed to nestle perfectly in that space next to his eye, and it was utterly beautiful and twisted with the glint of black, the chill of the air and the ever so content and peaceful smile on his face.

"Elliot! Wait!" Rios raised both of his hands immediately in yet another halting position. "Elliot we can talk about this. You don't have to do this!"

"I didn't say I had to Rios. I said I wanted to, there's a difference."

"Why?!" Damn it the tears were back. Tyson had been through plenty of frightening shit, Shanghai not being the least of them, but he had never been prepared to fight his best friend in order to save the man's life. He wasn't qualified for this. Damn he wished Alice was still around. She could always talk sense into the both of them. Fuck! Why was he never qualified enough to handle anything!

"I can't do it anymore. I'm not who I used to be. Whether it was this or you, I died in Shanghai, because nothing was ever the same after that."

"Ok, ok ok ok ok ok! Maybe that's the case. We've both changed after that, man. Okay? We both lost a lot! But we haven't lost our friendship. I fucked up, ok? I know I did and I'm sorry, but we can still fix this. I honestly believe we can! We'll work together. I'll work my ass of to make it happen! I promise!"

For a moment Salem didn't move. The smile was gone, but the goddamned gun was still attached to his fucking head. If Rios could just find a way to get over the coffee table and wrestle it out of his hands. There had to be something.

"And then what Tyse? We go back to working as Military Contractors? You honestly think you could go back to that after what happened?"

It was Rios' turn to show a blank face.

He'd never thought much on it really.

But that didn't matter now.

"Look Elliot, we'll figure something out, ok? Just…give it another chance. Give me another chance."

Salem blinked and for a second his arm relaxed. The gun dropped and Rios relaxed for the moment.

"You don't get it man. I've been trying. I've given it chance after chance after chance…I don't have the strength anymore. I don't have the energy, it's just not there anymore."

"Then I'll be there."

"No offense Tyse," Salem looked away, his hand waving the gun next to his hip, "but you haven't really pulled through lately. I can't –"

"It'll be different this time."

A smile.

"You said that last time, man."

Rios afforded himself a laugh.

"I'm allowed to be wrong to, aren't I?"

They stood there, staring and smiling at each other for a few moments.

Then Salem raised the gun.

Rios launched himself over – through – the coffee table.

It went off as both men fell to the floor.

When Rios pushed himself off of the floor he realized that he had shards of glass in his legs and even in his hands. The whisky had spilled and now burned those open wounds severely. The booze and glass mixed with the blood that was now slowly leaking into the crevices of the wooden floor and rug. It danced between the shards of glass, wood…hair….skull fragments…

Tyson knew that in a few moments, the pain in his heart would surpass that of his body.


End file.
